


A Twist of Fate

by Cyan_Phantasmagoria



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: All Routes, Drama, Gen, Humor, Not To Be Taken Too Seriously, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-12-28 02:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyan_Phantasmagoria/pseuds/Cyan_Phantasmagoria
Summary: Byleth Eisner has lived the same life over fifteen thousand times. Then, something changes.





	1. Sothis, we're not in our Fódlan anymore

Byleth was tired.

Or maybe tired was not the correct word. Bored, perhaps was a better phrase. After all, living one’s life countless times in succession would grow old after a time.

(“Countless,” of course, was an exaggeration. They could, in fact, recall each and every one of their fifteen thousand, five hundred and forty-three repetitions)

Byleth still remembered their original lifetime, so many millennia ago in their mind. After the war had ended, they had returned to the Holy Tomb, guided by some instinct (“Guided by my hand,” Sothis always interjects whenever the story is told) and sat once again upon the throne. Their eyes had closed, and then-

“Welcome back.”

There they were, once again in front of Sothis’s throne, the smug little god-girl staring at them, amused.

It seemed that apparently, binding one’s soul with the progenitor goddess’s had a few residual side effects.

And so Byleth had experienced their life for a second time, ended a war, and returned to the Holy Tomb.

Then a third.

Then a fourth.

By the eighth repetition, they had grown weary of going through the motions and started taking…alternative measures. Nothing large at first, merely pushing the boundaries of whatever fate it seemed that they would be reliving for the foreseeable eternity. This time around, they had run Kronya through on sight.

On the tenth repetition, they successfully negotiated a parley between the Adrestian Empire and the Kingdom of Faerghus.

On the fifteenth through twenty-eighth, they had spent their time swaying Edelgard away from her chosen path, succeeding finally on that thirteenth attempt.

The next twelve were spent on exorcising Dimitri’s demons.

The next eighteen were spent with Claude, half of which involved returning to Almyra in lieu of Fódlan’s issues.

On and on it went. Every permutation of choices taken, every line of dialogue exhausted, every secret extracted. Over and over the years repeated, starting on that fateful day of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1180, and ending whenever they saw fit to return to the Holy Tomb - or by some circumstance they perished. 

They had seen the three factions of Fódlan truly united against Those that Slither in the Dark.

They had seen each of those nations collapse, one at a time in some lives and all at once in others.

They had seen Edelgard and Dimitri wed, uniting their lands, and they had seen the two end each other's lives on the battlefield thousands of times.

They had been male and female and everything on the spectrum in between, had myriad lovers, borne children to many of them.

After so many lifetimes, Byleth was long since past any depression or angst at their circumstances. Always having been rather sanguine, they had taken to the infinite repetition shockingly well.

Sothis, who was Byleth's only companion throughout the repeats, had plenty of theories on their unique situation. Many lifetimes were spent on thoroughly testing her various whims and experiments. Sometime around the twenty thousandth repetition she no longer needed to grant Byleth the entirety of her power to escape Solon's trap; neither of them had quite figured out what had changed. In some timelines, Rhea's plot bore fruit, granting her control of Byleth's body - after which they made sure to fully abuse their now incorporeal consciousness as she once had.

And so the two of them had whiled away eternity with their cosmic game.

Now, in their dream-world they had met in so long ago, she spoke. “Well? What do you plan to do this time? I am starting to tire with the constant repetition of the same tale.”

Byleth shrugged despite agreeing, prompting a scoff. Even after so many millennia, it seemed she would still be so easily riled by their practiced reticence.

“If you do not have any plans then I suppose you will not have any objections to my claiming of your body again? It has been a while since I have dined on any Almyran delicacies.”

“Absolutely not,” they countered, “Last time I let you have it you got us killed.”

“How rude! Surely you have accomplished that just as many times as I. And how was I supposed to know that he would react in that way?!”

Byleth smiled and rolled their eyes, feeling the tug of reality on their mind. “I’ll think of something. And you’re not getting my body this time.”

As the dim green light of the dreamscape faded, Byleth hoped that something would be different this time.

\--- 

Byleth blinked awake on the fourteenth of the Great Tree Moon and sat up. Looking down at his now male body he gave a hum of acknowledgment. Across the lifetimes, his gender and sex seemed to be two of the very few things unrelated to his machinations that changed frequently.

Getting up and getting dressed with long since practiced motions, Byleth took a moment to appreciate the silence. Even if he was thankful for Sothis’s constant presence, the hour or so of each life without her presence was refreshingly meditative – not that he would dare tell her that. He counted down the seconds until the inevitable call of-

“Hey. Time to wake up.”

Byleth smiled. Even after so many years and lives, he would still enjoy spending time with his father, no matter how distant from personal relations he had become after it all. Far, far back in time, before repeating lives, before he had heard of Garreg Mach and Sothis was nothing but a dream in his head, Byleth, unemotional child that he had been, had not truly appreciated Jeralt’s love for him. One of the benefits of his situation was being able to rectify that.

“Coming, father.”

“Huh. You’re up early. OK, time to get moving. Our next job is in the Kingdom. It’s far from here, so we’ll need to leave at dawn.”

“Of course.” Byleth said, still counting down as Louis burst into the tent right on cue, calling for the older mercenary’s presence outside. Settling his face into one of mild confusion, Byleth followed his father outside to –

Everything _stopped._

Fifteen thousand, five hundred and forty-three times had Byleth stepped out of his tent that fateful day.

Fifteen thousand, five hundred and forty-three times had Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude been there to greet him, clad in their House colors and Garreg Mach uniforms.

On the fifteen thousand, five hundred and forty-fourth time he stepped out, none of them were there.

In lieu of Edelgard stood a shorter girl, still clad in the Imperial regalia of Adrestia, hands clutching an axe to her chest in fear and snow-white hair messy and in disarray. Her eyes darted to and fro nervously, searching for any possible escape route. _Bernadetta?_

In lieu of Dimitri stood another girl, older and dressed in the trappings of Faerghan royalty, long blond hair tied with a single ribbon. Her right hand wielded a spear that seemed too large and heavy for her frame, yet she held it with ease while her other hand rested on the other girl’s shoulder to calm her. _Mercedes?_

In lieu of Claude stood a bespectacled boy, adorned with symbols of the Leicester Alliance. On his back was a quiver, in his hands was a bow, and at his hip was a pouch of what were no doubt artists’ materials. He bowed politely as Byleth exited. _Ignatz?_

“Please forgive our intrusion. We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.”

Byleth gave a start at hearing those familiar words coming from – Mercedes? Was that who this truly was? – Luckily, none present seemed to notice.

Jeralt hmphed. “What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?”

“Oh, I told you they wouldn’t help us! N-now they’re going to kick us out for wasting their time or kidnap us and force us to work for them or even kill us themse-“

“Bernadetta. Breathe.” Said the boy Byleth had known as Ignatz. Turning back to Jeralt he continued. “As my classmate has stated, we are in quite a difficult situation. We were separated from our comrades and pursued by bandits. Might we ask for your company’s aid?”

The conversation is so alike, yet so not that Byleth can’t help but gape at the surrealness of it all. Still, he has little time to analyze it as Kostas and his bandits are upon them and as he moves into position as he has done thousands upon thousands of times, the thought occurs to him.

_Well this is certainly different._


	2. The Aides of Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The leaders of the Three Houses talk with their retainers, in light of the recent events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some square pegs and round holes. Also significant spoilers for all routes and character backstories. Last warning.

The Imperial Princess of Adrestia should be strong. The Imperial Princess of Adrestia should be wise. The Imperial Princess of Adrestia should be noble, unyielding, and so many other things besides.

In Bernadetta von Hresvelg’s opinion, she was none of these.

Here she was, hiding in her room, almost reflexively knitting to calm her nerves while the other houses would be meeting with the new professor and convincing him to join them and they were so much stronger and smarter than Bernie-

“Lady Bernadetta?”

“EEP!” The knitting needles dropped to the ground. “Wh-who is it?! Bernie’s not feeling too well and- “

The door creaked open and in swept Edelgard, chestnut hair tied into a tight bun. “My lady, is everything alright? The new professor asked after you.”

Bernadetta took a deep breath, forcing down the ever-present anxiety. Her retainer since childhood’s presence had always calmed her, despite how stern and forceful she often was. Often had Bernadetta thought that Edelgard would make a far greater Emperor than she ever could be. As her heartbeat steadied, she attempted an explanation. “Oh, I’m fine, Edelgard. I just…”

Her retainer allowed Bernadetta a moment to collect herself. When it didn’t seem like an explanation would be forthcoming, she offered, “I assume this…episode would be related to your encounter at Remire Village?”

“Y-yes.” Bernadetta breathed again. “I didn’t expect a mercenary party to be there, especially not the Blade Breaker’s party! And even his son was so much stronger than those bandits we hired and…”

As she trailed off once again, Edelgard gave her another moment before replying. “Yes, while those bandits were certainly no trained soldiers, we expected them to be able to deal with two students. Your becoming caught up with the others and encountering such a formidable force could not be accounted for, but perhaps this can be used to our advantage.”

“Y-yeah, the new professor seems really strong. And he did save me when Kostas almost – “

“_WHAT?!_” Edelgard’s chair clattered to the floor as she stood suddenly.

“EEP!”

“Are you alright my lady?!”

“Yes, l-like I said, the new professor saved me. He was so fast! Almost like he knew what was going to happen even though that can’t be possible and he probably just noticed the bandit moving when I couldn’t because I…” Bernadetta trailed off again at her retainer’s pensive but worried stare.

“Well. I am glad you are alright, and it seems I may have to give him my thanks a second time. As for the bandits, perhaps we should seek alternative – “

“No.”

Bernadetta’s eyes were closed now, her thoughts focusing. Everything outside was so loud and distracting and dangerous but here in her room she could center herself and at least attempt to act like the heir to an Empire. “I know you don’t like using bandits and I don’t either but we still need hands and feet that can’t be connected to us. Kostas’s company can be replaced easily but we can’t just do everything ourselves. And I’d still rather use bandits than…_Them._”

Edelgard nodded, a ghost of a smile on her face. “Very well then, my lady. I will look for suitable replacements, then. I will leave you to your thoughts, then?”  
“Yes, you can go. And can you make sure no one else comes by? Especially Caspar…”

“Of course, my lady.”

As the door closed once more, Bernadetta released a breath, picking up her needles. Thoughts swirled around in her head, half-Imperial Princess, half-afraid little girl, but all her. _Alright Bernie. What next? If I could get that new professor to teach the Black Eagles we could….and then…_

Bernadetta was many things, but she was not a fool. She wouldn’t have survived the Adrestian court nor the monsters that had experimented on her and her siblings for years if she was. Edelgard had certainly helped, centered her when her terrors threatened to consume her, but she had managed to survive on her own when needed. She knew what others thought of her, the other Adrestian houses seeing a weak, easily terrified, easily controlled doll, her classmates seeing a frail thing needing help. She did not necessarily disagree, but she also knew how to use it to her advantage. A well-timed shriek could draw away attention, a stutter in her voice and implication of tears stop a particular line of questioning. Bernadetta could not change how she was, but she could certainly use it to her advantage.

She cautiously cracked open the door and slipped off to speak with Byleth.

Often, she used the ploy that she feared for her life from others. And truth be told, between her position and shortened lifespan she had more reason than most to believe so. But if she was to be killed, she would not simply lie down and take it.

\---

Hold. Strike. Reposition. Hold. Strike. Reposition. Hold. Stri-

Both the training spear and the training dummy she was using shattered into wooden shards. Mercedes Alexandre Blaiddyd sighed. It had been awhile since she had ruined equipment so badly, but she supposed the day had been extremely taxing. Muttering a prayer to the goddess, she knelt down to clean up her handiwork.

“Your Highness?” A very familiar voice called to her.

"Ah, Ingrid, Might I ask you for your aid?”

“There is no need to ask me, Your Highness.” The other blonde-haired girl knelt down beside Mercedes and began gathering up the wooden shards. “I gave the professor my thanks for rescuing you. If Sir Jeralt and Sir Byleth had not been there, who knows what could have happened to you?”

Mercedes nodded and hummed. The new professor seemed quite strong, and would make quite the instructor for the Blue Lions. Perhaps she should bake something for him later. There was a companionable silence between the two before a thought came to Mercedes. “Ingrid?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Why do you call me that?”

Ingrid turned her head, looking confused. “It’s proper, Your Highness.”

Mercedes sighed once again. “You know I don’t care particularly for strict etiquette. I would enjoy if you would simply call me by name.” She smirked as another thought came to her. “In fact, I distinctly recall you calling me something far different when we first met.”

Red exploded across Mercedes’s retainer’s face. “I – I – Your Highness–” It was too much. So rarely was Ingrid so perturbed that Mercedes could not stop herself from laughing. This, of course, only unsteadied her more. “P-Please don’t tease me, Your Highness! I was… We were both different back then! I didn’t know you weren’t responsible for…”

She trailed off as Mercedes’s light laughter died down at recollections of somber memories.

Ingrid was the only child of the formerly noble House Caida. Following the Tragedy of Duscur, rumors had spread that the House had been involved; rumors that seemed to be proven true when a series of suspicious letters had turned up in investigation. In the fragile political climate and with enraged civilians baying for the House’s blood, there had been no time to further confirm the legitimacy of the evidence. Left with no other choice, regent had the head of the House and his wife executed and their child turned out to the streets and revoked of noble status.

Mercedes had found Ingrid there, in the streets of what had once been Caida territory while her Uncle had been needed to portion the lands of the ruined house to the other nobles. She had been thin, dirty, and in the process of being ruthlessly attacked by two larger boys.

_“Cease this at once!”_

_“Wha-“_

_“P-Princess?! W-We were just-”_

_“Yer Highness! This is the bitch whose parents caused the Tragedy! We were-”_

_“Torturing an innocent! What could **she** have done?! You only-”_

Then her uncle’s soldiers had come, no doubt looking for the wayward princess. The boys had fled and Mercedes had directed them to help the beaten girl, who when disturbed, had turned to the princess, eyes wide, and shouted:

_“I don’t need your help, you royal bitch!”_

There had been quite a commotion after that, between the soldiers' instinctive responses followed by their realization of Ingrid’s identity. Mercedes, even young and broken as she was had managed to calm the situation. Looking back, she had no idea as to why she had been so willing to believe that Ingrid’s house, or at least Ingrid herself was innocent. She vaguely recalled her uncle’s disapproval of such hasty judgement and skepticism at the evidence letters, which she supposed may have influenced her.

Or perhaps she did not want to see any more violence when the wounds of the Tragedy were still so fresh.

They had brought Ingrid back to Fhirdiad upon Mercedes’s insistence and likely her uncle’s guilty conscience. It had taken many moons afterward for Ingrid to accept her new lot in life and even more before the two of them had settled into their current standing, but Mercedes could still keenly recall the smile on Ingrid’s face when she had accepted the former noble girl as her retainer.

_“You are a fool to trust her.”_

_“How could you?! You know what she did!”_

_“Hush, father, stepmother._

Mercedes shook her head free of the ghosts and memories of the past. Her friend had been staring at her with a worried expression, so she said the one thing she knew would distract Ingrid. “I hear there is quite a feast today, to celebrate Sir Jeralt’s entry into the Knights of Seiros and the monastery’s acquisition of a new professor. You should go eat! I can take this from here.”

“Oh! But I…” She pursed her lips, but Mercedes could clearly see Ingrid’s stomach winning out.

“Oh just go! I’ll be right behind you.”

“Very well then, Your Highness.” She stood and bowed before practically racing off, leaving behind a very amused Mercedes.

_“Gluttonous girl.”_

_“So too were her parents. Gluttonous enough for power to plot to kill their King.”_

Mercedes turned back to the pile of wood…and then realized that she would not be able to hold so many shards at once and sighed.

Oh well. Such was the will of the Goddess.

\---

_“In the Imperial year of 801, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus-"_

“Hey, Ignatz! You in there?”

Said boy sighed, standing and walking towards the source of the voice. “Yes, Leonie. Do be quiet, will you? This is a library.”

The orange-haired girl smiled. “Oh, come on! Everyone else is at the banquet for your rescue and here you are still studying away? That’s admirable and all, but you really gotta relax! You just escaped a near-death situation hours ago!”

Ignatz merely shook his head. “It’s not for _me_. It’s for the new professor. And if I can’t bounce back from a single risky situation, how can I be expected to lead the Alliance one day?”

Leonie huffed, but didn’t argue. If there was one thing the daughter of House Goneril knew, it was the importance of duty. Being responsible for Fódlan's safety from a rival nation did that to a person. Confident that he had won the argument, Ignatz turned back to his table. “You shouldn’t let me spoil your fun, Leonie. Head back to the dining hall. I’ll be down soon enough too.”

“Painted anything new lately?”

Ignatz froze. “That was dirty, Leonie.”

“Hey, I’m just curious! You’ve got a real gift there. I’m sure you’ll have some time to paint even after you’re the Duke.”

That was obviously a lie. Leonie had never been one for subtlety. Her words were blunt instruments and any of her attempts at implication were smothered by frankness. Ignatz appreciated that about her, most of the time, when most of the other houses’ words were at the very least laced with disguised requests or at worst veiled threats.

“Well I can think about that when I’m the Duke. Right now, I’m making sure I’ll be able to fulfill that role properly.”

Truth be told, Ignatz wasn’t quite sure why he was trying to push Leonie away so much. Generally, he enjoyed her presence, but after the events of the day…

He supposed such a stark reminder of his mortality had shaken him. Ignatz knew the repercussions of his death would extend beyond himself. His father’s death had shaken the House of Riegan and by extension all of the Leicester Alliance. At the time - just under a year ago - he had not even known of his own heritage, contentedly living a simple life with his mother, a simple shopkeep. It was not until a week later that men from Derdriu had arrived at their cottage, bearing a letter from his then-unknown father, the late Godfrey von Riegan, speaking of a child out of wedlock and contingencies for an untimely death.

Ignatz and his mother had been whisked away to Derdriu, and despite whatever had occurred between his father and her that Ignatz still did not know, Duke Riegan had been courteous and accommodating, greeting them with a smile on his wrinkled face and explaining Ignatz’s heritage to him thoroughly.

Being suddenly greeted with the knowledge that he was the equivalent of a prince was staggering, and the weight that now rested on his shoulders drove him to furious lengths to live up to necessary requirements. He knew that, physically, he was nothing impressive, but his mind could be honed razor-sharp – which was why he was now hiding in the monastery library, under the watchful eye of Tomas, and studying the history of the Alliance and the Kingdom.

“Hey. Move over.”

“Wha-”

“If you’re going to insist on staying here and reading, I’m gonna help you! And when you’re done with this book or I see you need a break, we’re going down to the dining hall even if I have to drag you there! Now give me that book.”

Ignatz had never been discontent with his lot in life, but he had dreams as all children did, hidden away on scraps of paper long since torn. That dream-life was not what he had expected, entailing far more effort than his old life would have, but he supposed that had he never taken on his new role, he never would have come to Garreg Mach, and by extension met the people he was honored to call his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably going to be the format for this story - one piece for each of the houses' swapped characters interacting however I find interesting. As for who's taking whose place...
> 
> Bernadetta - Honestly, this whole thing came from the idea that Bernadetta's whole host issues could have also been the result of torture and experimentation by Those Who Slither in the Dark instead of just her shitty dad. Then one thing led to another and boom. Flame Emperor Bernie, long may she reign.
> 
> Edelgard - I've always thought Edelgard and Hubert were pretty similar in their intense devotion to their goals and so this was a pretty easy switch. I also just like the idea of her constantly dealing with and soothing Bernadetta's issues with her softer side.
> 
> Mercedes - I just thought taking the sweet nun and forcing her into Dimitri's tragic as hell backstory would be interesting to run with. Also Dimitri breaking stuff with his monster strength is really funny to me and it's even funnier when it's her. Mercedes in the canon seems a lot more calm and composed than most of the other characters, so I think she could deal with the whole thing at least a bit better. That's not to say she's immune though. You'll see.
> 
> Ingrid - So the hardest switches to do were the ones with non-Fódlan natives. For Ingrid, I invented a new House that was blamed for the Tragedy of Duscur to emulate Dedue's loss of his family and people. This Ingrid's probably angrier than canon Ingrid or canon Dedue, because she's not really as stoic as Dedue in canon and she's got a whole lot more loss to deal with here.
> 
> Ignatz - So I'll admit I don't have as much fondness or knowledge of the Golden Deer as I do for the other Houses, but I thought Ignatz's thing of being forced into a role he kinds of didn't want when he would rather be an artist meshed well with someone suddenly being thrust into a position of power and responsibility. Here he's Godfrey's illegitimate son that was only just found instead of the kid of Duke Riegan's daughter that ran off to Almyra. Another case of non-Fódlan native swapping causing issues. Claude will still be the Prince of Almyra in this, though.
> 
> Leonie - So one reason I don't care for the Golden Deer quite as much as the other Houses is that they feel kinda...samey? To me at least. Leonie in Hilda's place would be much more competitive with Holst instead of going the other route, which is why I thought to put her in this position. I kinda feel like I didn't get to show her off very much here, so I'll probably have to fix that later down the line. Sorry, Golden Deer fans.


	3. The Price of Nobility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter was accidentally deleted and reposted*

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Linhardt Von Aegir thought it was a perfect day to nap under the shade of one of Garreg Mach’s many large trees. Ah, but where to doze off? Somewhere out of sight and out of mind, surely. It would not do to have his peace interrupted by one of his housemates. Bernadetta would not care, and if she did not, neither would Edelgard. Both Hubert and Dorothea had more important things to do than disturb his slumber, and he could see Petra speaking with Professor Manuela out of the corner of his eye. That left…

“Linhardt!”

Ah. Of course. Ferdinand.

Well, perhaps if Linhardt ignored him and continued on, the Bergliez heir would just…forget about him. Like a distracted cat.

“Linhardt. I know you heard me.” A hand fell heavily on his shoulder and Linhardt sighed. Ah yes. Ferdinand’s father was the Minister of Military Affairs and was simply more physically fit than he was.

“Hello, Ferdinand. Can I help you?”

The taller boy merely stared, formulating his thoughts, before responding. “And where would you be going, my friend?”

‘Friend,’ was a bit of an exaggeration, in Linhardt’s opinion. He and Ferdinand had never particularly got along, which he suspected was due to him not exactly conforming to Ferdinand’s strict expectations of nobility. Perhaps appealing to that would work. “No need to worry about me, Ferdinand. I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to.”

“I can assure you that my duties will be properly completed, but what about yours? Have you been preparing yourself for our mission next week? Mere bandits though they may be, this will be your first combat experience, will it not?”

Truthfully, Linhardt had been trying not to think about it. With no penchant for physical combat in any capacity and his magical abilities attuned towards healing, he hoped to avoid the actual fighting as much as possible when they were deployed. Not to mention, even the thought of spilled blood turned his stomach as mightily as it had done when Caspar had cut himself on a misplaced blade when they were children.

“Hey, Linhardt! Oh, Ferdinand, you’re here too?” Speak of the devil. Both of them turned to the new voice, Ferdinand somewhat reluctantly. If the reasons for his dislike of Linhardt were somewhat unclear, Ferdinand’s reasons for disliking Caspar were far clearer: House Bergliez and House Hevring had been at each other’s throats since before any of them had been born, and it seemed the animosity had been inherited in at least one of them. Caspar, on the other hand, seemed as oblivious to it as he was to many things.

“Hello, Caspar. Linhardt and I were discussing our upcoming bandit suppression mission. What do you think?”

“Huh? Uh…there’s not really that much to think about is there? We can’t let those bandits run around like they own the place, so we’re going to remove them.”

Ferdinand grimaced a little. “Yes, but have you no worries about your first practical combat experience? A battlefield is not the training grounds. Any failure could be fatal.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it! As long as we keep up with our training I’m sure we’ll be fine. Besides, have you seen our new professor? He’s so strong!”

Ferdinand sighed. “I suppose you do have a point about that. And speaking of training...” Here he side-eyed Linhardt. “Perhaps you could convince your friend here to devote more of his time to such efforts. In any case, I must be off. It was good to speak with you two.”

The platitude had barely left his lips before he bowed and left. Caspar watched him go with a whistle. “He doesn’t like us very much, does he?”

Linhardt blinked at that. From all outward appearances, Caspar had no idea what Ferdinand (or anyone really) thought about him. He treated him the same as he did anyone else, with a carefree attitude that irritated his father to no end. “…Indeed. Neither of us is what one would call a ‘proper noble.’”

Caspar shook his head. “That’s definitely a part of it but I think it’s because he’s got a lot to live up to. His father’s a war hero and his uncle’s also a distinguished soldier. He’s probably thinking he needs to live up to them, but he’s not even the heir to his house. And that also probably drives him nuts when he looks at us two.”

Now openly gaping, Linhardt attempted to gather his thoughts. He and Caspar hadn’t talked particularly often in recent years, but had Caspar always been this astute? He had thought Ferdinand’s disapproval came from his high standards, but taking those into account alongside a perceived lack of agency in his family lent an entirely new perspective.

He couldn’t say he quite understood; he had always been more interested in his own Crest research than in living up to whatever role his father occupied, but then, Duke Aegir was not what one would call a positive role model for anyone.

“He is kind of right about you y’know. You were planning to just take a nap today, weren’t you!”

“And what’s wrong with that? This weather is perfect, and we have no immediate obligations for today. I’m quite tired, you know.” He punctuated his point with a yawn.

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t be if you didn’t stay up all night doing research!”

And so the two friends’ conversation dissolved into good-natured bickering.

\---

Dedue had always enjoyed cooking. Before the slaughter of his people, he and his sister had helped their parents in the kitchen. After the Tragedy…

“Dedue? Are you in there? Oh, it smells wonderful!”

The princess’s voice drew him out of his murky thoughts. “Hello, Your Highness. The stew is not quite done yet, but if you are willing to wait half an hour, it ought to be complete.”

There had been a time when he would not have wished to even be seen with a Faerghan noble, let alone the princess, but that loathing of his ethnicity had passed many years ago. There would always be those who hated him for his blood, but he would not give them power over who he befriended or spent his time with.

The princess herself was…rather peculiar to Dedue. She did not seem to hate him for his heritage, despite having more cause than most. Quite the contrary, she welcomed his arrival to Garreg Mach the same as she did the other members of the Blue Lions. At the same time, whenever they talked Dedue could see her fingers clench and arms twitch in a way similar to when she was clearly restraining herself from destroying training equipment with her Crest-given strength. Now too, she had her arms tightly crossed as she watched him work, although whether this was had to do with whatever mysterious misgivings she had with him or the recent events Dedue did not know. She spoke up once more as he stooped down to stoke the fire.

“Are you…alright, Dedue? After today’s...”

Dedue sighed lightly. He had been trying not to think too hard about the day’s events, but it seemed that it was not to be. “It is fine, Your Highness. Lonato was…”

The closest thing Dedue had to a parent after the Tragedy. A noble in every sense of the word to have taken in and raised a Duscuran child after losing his own and suffered much scorn and ridicule and criticism for it. The man who had taught Dedue to not be ashamed or afraid of his dark skin and to instead question why things were and how they could be better. And yet…

“Lonato had to be stopped.”

“But..” Mercedes was interrupted as the door flung open. “Dedue, we’ve brought the vegetables you asked for! Ah, Mercedes! You’re looking as lovely as ever.” Sylvain walked in, arms full of the aforementioned crops. The shorter redhead behind him shook her head.

“Honestly, Sylvain.” She flashed the princess an apologetic grin. “Sorry, Mercie. If I knew you were coming by, I would have stalled him longer.”

“How hurtful! Do you truly think so little of me?”

“Honestly, Sylvain, even if you were swimming in gold, I don’t think I’d marry you.”

The heavy air that had descended upon the kitchen quickly lifted. Mercedes began laughing and soon joined her childhood friend in teasing Sylvain while he good-naturedly took their verbal jabs while moving to help at the pot.

The two who walked in made a strange pair. One a womanizer and the other a noble whose family was suffering an economic downturn and seeking to have her married. Dedue supposed that Annette enjoyed Sylvain’s company precisely because he was not seeking any sort of commitment and Sylvain could sympathize with her being married off for her Crest, as his mother had been.

Dedue appreciated that his housemates were making sure that he was alright, but dealing with them could be a hassle at the best of times. He raised his voice. “While I encourage the criticism of Sylvain’s habits – “

“Hey!”

“ – Perhaps this would be done elsewhere? The kitchen is no place for this. If you three would like to wait in the dining hall, I should be done momentarily.”

Looking slightly chastised, the three of them filed out, Mercedes turning back for a moment before closing the door behind her. Dedue was once again left to his thoughts.  
He had suffered many tragedies in his life. First, the Tragedy of Duscur had claimed the lives of everyone her had held dear, and now he had even lost his surrogate parent to whatever madness claimed him.

Still, as he exited the kitchen and joined the rest of the Blue Lions in the dining hall, he found himself fairly content at the makeshift family he had come to know at Garreg Mach.

\---

“There, there.”

Marianne enjoyed talking to animals, silly as it may have seemed. Dorte neighed peacefully as she ran the brush through his mane. When she was satisfied, she collected her things and was about to step out when a sudden bout of nausea hit her. _‘Not now!’_

“Woah there!”

A huge pair of arms caught her before she could hit the ground. A moment of terror gripped her before she forced herself to relax. She wasn’t-couldn’t be back there. As she was set back down, Marianne turned to see who had saved her.

“You alright? I know you’re kinda…delicate and all. Hope I didn’t hurt you.”

It was…Raphael, if she remembered his name properly. Marianne did not know her fellow Golden Deer classmates particularly well, both due to her tendency to keep to herself and her family’s lesser status within the Leicester Alliance. “M-my thanks. I was…”

Her thought was cut off by another bought of nausea accompanied by a splitting headache. She almost fell once more before once again being caught by Raphael. “You must be sick, Marianne! Don’t worry, I’ll get you to Lysithea. She knows some faith magic, even if she’s not as good at it as you are. Oh, but uh…don’t tell her I said that!”

Marianne tried to respond, but found she could only manage a slight nod before unconsciousness hit her.  
-  
Marianne awoke to a younger girl staring at her owlishly over the top of a book. “Where-“

“You’re in the infirmary,” the girl – Lysithea, it must have been – told her. “You’re lucky Raphael was around when you collapsed. I couldn’t tell what was wrong with you so I brought you to Professor Manuela. I’d say you should thank her but she’s…” The dark-haired girl trailed off. Even, Marianne, with her limited interaction with others knew about the nurse’s penchant for drinking away the night.

“Anyway! You need to take better care of yourself! You never know when something unexpected and dangerous might happen and if you’re too sick to stay on your feet you might as well be dead!”

Marianne winced. Lysithea was correct, if rather harsh, but what could she do about it? Marianne had never asked for her house’s downfall or the Imperial soldiers who killed most of her family and then-and then-

Marianne was finding it hard to breathe.

“Hey!”

Lysithea was at her side now, large eyes staring into Marianne’s as she cautiously rubbed her back with one hand while loosening Marianne’s grip on the bedsheets with another.

“It’s okay. You’re alright.”

Marianne’s breath started returning, short, quick gasps escaping her mouth as Lysithea continued to soothe her.

“Sorry for scolding you. It wasn’t your fault you got sick.”

Marianne nodded, still unable to speak.

“I was scared, you know? My parents died in a monster attack a couple of years ago so seeing one of my friends in danger really frightened me.”

Friends? Marianne was sure the two of them hadn’t exchanged ten words with each other before that day. Still, it comforted her to hear Lysithea call her that, and she soon found her voice once again. “Th-thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The younger girl stood back up. “You’re fine, uh, physically, so you can go if you want. Or not, if you’re not feeling up to it.”

Marianne was feeling better, if a little ashamed at needing to be coddled by a girl two years her younger. She shuffled her way out of the bed before a thought struck her. “Do you know where…?”

As if reading her mind, Lysithea answered before Marianne could finish her question. “Raphael, right? He’s out on the training grounds, as usual. You can probably catch him if you go right now. Or in a couple of hours, even. Seems like he’s always there.”

Marianne nodded before quickly taking her leave of the infirmary.  
-  
“Hrah! Hngh!”

Raphael was indeed on the training grounds, pounding at a training dummy with a pair of training gauntlets. Marianne stood for a while, not sure how to catch his attention when he noticed her on his own.

“Oh, hey! Marianne, right? You feelin’ better?”

“Y-yes. Thank you for helping me earlier.”

“No problem! Us Golden Deer gotta stick together, right?” The huge boy smiled, and Marianne shyly returned it. “You’re out training so late?” she inquired.

“Yeah! I enjoy it. Besides, I’m not really all that smart, so all I can really do is train up my body!”

The two drifted back into silence as Raphael continued his training regimen. It was a while before he spoke up again, this time with much more hesitation in his voice. “Hey, uh…this might be a little personal, but…did you get sick from your Crest somehow?”

A freezing sensation blossomed in Marianne’s chest how could he have known? How much did he know? Would he tell anyone? A flurry of such questions ran through her mind before Raphael took notice and backpedaled quickly.

“You don’t have to answer me! Professor Manuela called Professor Hanneman in while you were unconscious and he started getting all excited over something, so I figured it had something to do with your Crest. He’s been helping me learn to use my Crest too, so he might be able to help you too!”

Marianne was barely listening. She knew Professor Hanneman was an expert in the field of Crest Research so if he had examined her then he must have uncovered her secret. “How did- I don’t know what you’re talking about! My Crests- “Marianne froze and nearly collapsed once again when she realized what she had let slip, but thankfully it seemed Raphael did not notice.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! The Professor won’t tell anyone what’s up with your Crest if you don’t want him to. And he knows what he’s doing. A lot of people say my Crest is cursed, but Professor Hanneman didn’t care about any of that and helped me out!”

If what he was saying was true…

Marianne did not trust many people. It was all too easy to imagine their faces as those of her tormentors. Even here at the monastery, ostensibly safe, she sometimes found herself practicing extreme caution. But if there was someone who could free her from her fate…

“Could you…introduce me to Professor Hanneman?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 3 swaps unrevealed per House left. Care to guess who's taking whose place? 
> 
> Linhardt - I'll be honest and say that the reason for his swap is as a foil to Ferdinand, both in canon and in this story. I don't really feel like Linhardt's the kind of character to be too affected by his upbringing, and in canon we don't see a single one of his family members, so it was easy to transplant him over into Ferdinand's place. 
> 
> Ferdinand - This is the big swap of the three Black Eagles ones in this chapter. In canon, Ferdinand's character is obviously defined by his pursuit of nobility and competition with Edelgard, and there's a lot of dialogue about how he feels Edelgard exemplifies his own ideals better than he possibly could. In this story, putting him in Caspar's place leaves him with a lazy older brother who's still going to inherit the House leadership and multiple parental figures that have big shoes to fill. Meanwhile, the other members of his house that _are_ heirs don't really live up to his vision of nobility. Basically his rivalry with Edelgard become a rivalry with a whole lot of people in his house, and that's a lot to work with. 
> 
> Caspar - I wanted to keep his friendship with Linhardt, so that didn't leave me with that many options. Caspar's pretty interesting to me because his supports show he can be really introspective when he needs to be, so I thought putting him into a position where he's the heir to the House of Internal Affairs would make him develop that skill more. 
> 
> Dedue - Oh boy. Like I said last chapter, dealing with foreigner swaps was a huge pain. This is probably my least favorite of all of them because it feels more contrived than the others and doesn't really give me much to work with, so I'm probably not going to write much more of Dedue unless I can think of something interesting to do with him. 
> 
> Sylvain - Sylvain in Mercedes's place has a lot of interesting parallels with his canon character, the same disdain for Crests but for a slightly different reason, the same disdain for Crest _marriage_ but for a slightly different reason. I hope to showcase him more; this chapter was honestly here to get Dedue out of the way. 
> 
> Annette - Another swap to keep that Mercedes/Annette friendship alive. Annette's different from Ingrid in ways that I think will be fun to play with: for example, Count Galatea would probably encourage her singing as that's a more marriageable trait than Ingrid's desire to become a knight. 
> 
> Marianne - From one terrible Crest problem to another, she just can't catch a break. Canon Marianne already deals with mortality, but I think here she'd be much less welcoming of it. She'd also be more open once she does start getting to know the other Golden Deer because her issues here aren't of her own (perceived) fault like in canon. 
> 
> Lysithea - This was sort of filling what was left, like a lot of the Golden Deer, but given that Lysithea's a lot less forgiving than Raphael, I'm hoping to get some mileage out of the conflict between her, Ignatz's replacement, and Lorenz's replacement over her parents' deaths. 
> 
> Raphael - His nickname is literally the 'Beast of Leicester' in canon, ok. This was probably the easiest Golden Deer swap I did.

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I got to thinking about how some characters would interact if they were in different positions and then it got WAY too out of hand. 
> 
> This is going to be an anthology of generally collected stories in this roleswap AU. Continuity not assured, apart from who is swapped with who.
> 
> Also don't expect too much Byleth in this. It's mostly going to be focused on the roleswapped characters and they're really only here to lend a framing device for what's basically the prologue.


End file.
